


Something's Off

by poolsofspidey



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-19
Updated: 2019-01-22
Packaged: 2019-10-12 22:44:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17476352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poolsofspidey/pseuds/poolsofspidey
Summary: Four times the members of Voltron tried to rationalize Keith’s and Lance’s relationship, and the one time it finally all made sense.





	1. Rivalry as they knew it?

1\. Pidge   
  
Pidge didn’t go to the training room often. She preferred more to exercise her mental faculties rather than her physical build. Of the majority of the times she’d enter this room, they hadn’t even been of her own volition, but of Allura’s at the demands of team bonding.    
  
Pidge didn’t really see the need to focus on team building anymore. She could confidently call them a family. They were so in sync with one another that forming Voltron became a second hand response to an instinctual demand.    
  
Nonetheless, Pidge knew she was at an extreme disadvantage if she were to find herself in a situation without any tech or her bayard at her disposal. Her stature was small, and while she was quick, she was lacking in strength and had no actual technical fighting skills other than the ones she had picked up from experience.    
  
So today, she decided to fix that. Keith was almost always in the training room and she doubted he would mind if she asked him for help. So here she was at the training room.    
  
The doors spread open.   
  
As expected Keith was there. He was mid push-up, his head turned slightly at her entrance and he nonverbally acknowledged her as they locked eyes before he continued his activities. Not quite as expected, Lance was also there, a few feet away from Keith. He sat in a wide straddle, stretching his arm to reach over his head and side body to rest upon his left leg, fingers striving past his toes. At her entrance he looked up and opened his arms in a wide welcoming gesture.    
  
“Hey Pidgeon! What brings you here?” Lance asked. Pidge was about to answer before Lance interjected with a unnecessarily stupid comment. “Don’t tell me you’re here to ogle at me being uncontrollably attractive as I work out?”   
  
She rolled her eyes. Lance was stupid, though she meant that word with endearment. Lance always managed to brighten her day. In the midst of an intergalactic battle, his presence allowed her to maintain her youth. Everyone became hardened with battle over the years, but Lance’s silly behavior let her engage in acting her actual age. And for that, she was extremely grateful, although she would never express any of this to him unless somehow absolutely necessary.   
  
“No, Lance,” Pidge replied, making the distaste apparent in her voice. She began walking over to them. “I’m here for Keith. I was hoping he would help me with hand to hand combat. What do you say Keith?”    
  
“Sure,” Keith answered, voice strained, as he continued his repetition of pushups. “Let me finish this. I’ll be done soon.”   
  
“Yeah, yeah,” Lance drawled sarcastically, “He’s been at it even since before I got here.”    
  
Keith grunted incoherently, but clearly conveying some form of annoying at Lance.    
  
“I’ll wait,” Pidge decided.   
  
In the meanwhile, she stretched with Lance.    
  
And so they stretched.    
  
And continued to stretch.   
  
And...    
  
“Okay this is getting ridiculous,” Lance pronounced, exasperated. He stood up, hands on his hips hovering over Keith who ignored him in favor of continuing his pushups. “Why bother doing push-ups if they’re obviously so easy for you? I bet you’re just trying to show off. Well trying showing off now!”   
  
Pidge didn’t know what to expect, but she did not expect Lance to sit on Keith like a bench, crossing one leg over the other. But of course, that’s exactly what he did.   
  
Keith didn’t falter.    
  
Lance seemed a little nonplussed. “Yeah, well,” he said, scrambling for words, “I was making it easy for you by not putting down my full weight. I didn’t think you would be able to handle it! How bout now, huh Keith?”    
  
Lance swung one of his leg over to the other side of Keith, straddling him like some kind of horse and tucking his feet against Keith’s sides.   
  
“Get. Off. Me. Lance,” Keith gritted out. His face was red. Whether in exertion or in anger, Pidge didn’t know. Probably both.    
  
A mischievous look tugged at Lance’s lips. Lance laid his chest down against Keith’s upper back, propping his elbows to support his head between his hands. He bent his knees, lifting his calves lazily in the air.    
  
Pidge knew Lance liked to push Keith’s buttons, but this was a whole other level. She was surprised Lance would willingly engage in this much physical contact with Keith, even if it was to just annoy him.   
  
Keith’s arms began to tremble more with each push-up, and the speed of repetition went down notably. Lance looked smug, now adjusting himself to have his cheek resting on a hand pressed between Keith’s shoulder bone and one arm draped over his shoulder.    
  
“You know, you should probably stop, I can hear your heart. Sounds like you can’t handle it and you’re about to have a heart attack!” Lance mocked.    
  
Finally, Keith shoved Lance off of himself violently, and made his way to his feet. Lance scrambled on the floor for a couple seconds before regaining his posture.   
  
“Hey!” Lance exclaimed, but Keith ignored him.    
  
“God, can you not be annoying for like two seconds?” Keith yelled, frustrated. “Some of us are actually trying to train right now. You should do some pushups and or anything to fix those noodle arms of yours.”   
  
Lance gasped scandalized. “Yeah? Well, you should do something to fix that terrible attitude of yours!”   
  
Keith growled, “Yeah? Well—“   
  
“Okay stop it!” Pidge interrupted, putting herself between the two. “Are you going to help me? Or are you going to spend the rest of the day bickering and yelling like kids.”    
  
Keith and Lance glared at each other for a second longer before breaking away.    
  
Lance walked away, presumably to practice his marksmanship with the drones.   
  
“Yeah, sure Pidge.”    
  
Next thing she knew, she was on the ground, arm pinned behind her back.    
  
“Hey! What are you doing?” Pidge shouted, squirming to get out of his grip.    
  
Keith released his grip, allowing Pidge to stand back up. He had the audacity to look confused. “I thought you wanted me to show you how to fight hand to hand?” He said, uncertainly. It was crazy how fast Keith could switch between a man with anger issues to a pitifully, naive boy.    
  
“Well yeah,” Pidge said. Okay, maybe Keith was right. Maybe you just had to learn by adaptation. “Okay, just give me a warning next time.”   
  
Keith nodded in affirmation. “Okay. Here’s the warning.”   
  
Pidge found herself again on the floor within a minute. And again. And again. All in different variations.   
  
“UGH!” Pidge exclaimed. “Okay, this isn’t helping, I don’t even know what I’m supposed to be doing? How am I supposed to defend against you?”   
  
Keith thought for a moment. “Oh. So you want like a demonstration or something?”    
  
“Yeah, that could work,” Pidge affirmed.    
  
“LANCE GET OVER HERE!” Keith shouted, at a level entirely above unnecessary. He probably just wanted to aggravate Lance.   
  
It was effective. They rallied retorts back and forth for awhile. Pidge drowned them out. They would probably always be like this. Finally, Lance came over, though stubbornness radiated off of his body language.    
  
“Pidge wants a demonstration of hand to hand. So demonstrate with me.” Keith explained curtly.   
  
Lance looked from Keith to Pidge, and a sly look came over his face. “If you wanted to spar with me you could have just asked nicely you know woah—“    
  
Keith lunges at him mid sentence. Lance quickly put some distance between the two. Pidge watched their movements critically so that hopefully she could emulate it herself later.   
  
Lance lasted longer than she expected, but in the end, wound up in a neck choke.    
  
Lance demanded to go again once more.    
  
Pidge knew too much data was never a bad thing, and was content to watch and analyze. Pidge found herself drifting to tech, wondering if she could use the footage taken of the training room and translate their body language to compute an algorithm that predicted a person’s next attack.    
  
Again, Lance wasn’t terrible, but nevertheless he ended up flat on his back. Keith was standing above him smugly.   
  
He didn’t even need to say anything before Lance spewed out justifications, “It’s because your mullet is all sweaty and I’ve been holding back because I don’t want to accidentally touch it.”   
  
Keith glared at him, but when Lance outstretched his hand, his face softened and he helped to pull Lance to his feet. Lance wobbled slightly at the quickness of his ascent and Keith stabilized him by grabbing the side of his arms, just slightly above the elbows. They stood in that position a beat too long before releasing from their hold.    
  
“Okay well I guess I’m up,” Pidge chimed, standing up from the spot she had been sitting on the floor earlier.    
  
“Wait!” Lance interjected quickly, “Let me tie up his mullet so you don’t have to experience the unfair advantage I did.”   
  
Pidge quirked an eyebrow, shifting her gaze to see how Keith would react. He only grumbled, “Do what you want,” but there was no malice to it.    
  
Pidge let Lance borrow a spare hair tie before he got to work on Keith’s proclaimed mullet.    
  
Lance positioned himself behind Keith. His fingers were long and skinny, threading deftly between Keith’s black hair as to comb it back. Keith simply rested his eyes while he allowed Lance to finish his ministrations. Lance looked pleased with himself.    
  
Pidge took this moment to reflect on how far they’d all come as a team. For example, no matter how much Keith and Lance argued, in the end they too shared a close friendship. It was reassuring, and it was nice.   
  
“Your fingers feel nice,” Keith murmured contently.   
  
Okay, not nice. Pidge choked on the water she had been drinking. This was weird.    
  
“Of course they do,” Lance finished securing the low pony tail in its place.    
“And your hair is as dry as always,” Lance teased.   
  
Pidge watched the scene mildly astounded. First of all, everything was weird. Keith being all gently content? Weird. Lance seeming happy to touch Keith? Weirder. Keith having been the aforementioned gently content from being touched by Lance? Weirdest.    
  
But Lance left to take a shower, supposedly inspired to take care of his hair after seeing the atrocity that was Keith’s, and Pidge and Keith trained together.    
  
Pidge decided she was overthinking things. A team was supposed to be close. So it makes sense for Lance and Keith to act that way with one another.   
  
Even if it was sort of... odd.    
  
  


2\. Hunk   
  
Hunk was team Voltron’s distinguished and designated chef. It was a title he assumed gladly. Cooking never felt like an obligation of duty, it was his passion.   
  
But it was also a coping mechanism.   
  
It was relatively long into the night, and there was absolutely no good reason to bake a space goo cheesecake.    
  
But sometimes, no matter how long into coming to terms with being a paladin, and becoming accustomed to his new life, sometimes, reality crept in ominously. It overwhelmed him. Before coming to space, he was always a worrier, not a warrior. And even now, he was still a worrier, only mildly less so.    
  
Hunk sat at the table, staring holes into the cheesecake as if if he focused hard enough it would magically dispose of itself. He heard footsteps approaching but didn’t truly register them until someone began speaking to him.   
  
“Hey big guy,” Lance greeted. “What did that cake ever do to offend you? Besides being sinfully delicious looking.”   
  
Hunk broke his gaze away from the cheesecake to look at Lance, who’s gaze was fixated on the tantalizing cake. Lance licked his lips hungrily.    
  
“Hey Lance. Want it?” Hunk offered. “I’m not even hungry.”    
  
Lance pulled a seat next to Hunk. “Okay what’s wrong?” Lance asked. He always could read Hunk’s emotions, even when he was planning to keep them to himself. Hunk was grateful Lance had always been there with him at the garrison.    
  
“I mean it’s got to be pretty serious if you aren’t eager to eat your own fine creations” Lance continued, nonetheless beginning to eat the cheesecake.    
  
Hunk sighed. “Nothing in particular...”   
  
Lance continued chewing, wordlessly, eyes silently imploring into Hunk’s own.   
  
Hunk was weak to that look. The silent urging, the reassurance, the comfort.    
  
“Do you ever just feel like,” Hunk began, unsure how exactly to articulate what he was feeling, “like everything is surreal? It’s like I’m suspended from a grounded reality.”    
  
Lance listened wordlessly. As Hunk continued to verbalize his thoughts.    
  
“It’s like, everything that’s happening, everything we’re going through is real. Every day we risk our lives and we know the gravity of that implication, but it doesn’t really hit me, you know? I feel like there’s no way something absolutely terrible could happen, that we’ll always overcome the obstacles thrown at us.”   
  
Hunk clenched his fist on the table.    
  
“But it can. This isn’t a game where we have multiple lives. If something happens, that’s it. Game over. We can’t start over. I mean, what if...”    
  
Hunk propped his elbows onto the table, sagging his shoulders to rest his head forward into his hands, shielding away his eyes.    
  
Hunk heard the metallic clink of Lance setting his fork down.    
  
“All time time, Hunk.” Lance said, somber.   
  
Hunk turned his head in surprised, searching in Lance’s eyes.   
  
Lance’s face looked pained, his eyes not watered but full of grief. Nonetheless he was smiling.    
  
“Every day, I wonder, if I’ll ever see my family again. I’m always scared I’ll lose everything. On one hand, I need to risk it all to secure their safety, I need to win, I have to win, to go home to them, there’s no other option for me.” Lance picked up the fork again as he spoke, seemingly inspecting it and fiddling with it between his fingers.    
  
Lance set it down again and sighed. “But on the other hand I think, what if I fail. Fail them. Fail the cause. Then what?” Lance confessed. His voice was low and soft, but steady.    
  
Lance sat up and turned himself in his seat to face Hunk entirely. “But that’s why we’re together,” Lance announced, a shift in his tone.    
  
“We’re a team. And I trust you guys with my life, and I hope you guys feel the same about me. Don’t you?” Lance asked with an edge of uncertainty.    
  
Hunk didn’t know what to say for a second, flabbergasted at the question. “Of course I do, Lance!” Hunk exclaimed.   
  
Lance grinned. “Good. So then we’ll be fine.”   
  
“But—“ Hunk began.   
  
“We’re Voltron.” Lance interrupted before Hunk could doubt himself. “We’ve been given everything we needed to succeed. The lions, the castle,” Lance gestured with his hands at the space around them, “and the best team in the entire universe.”    
  
A look of realization dawned on Hunk’s face, his features softening.    
  
“We’re not alone. We have each other, we rely on each other. We can do this.” Lance concluding, his voice spoken with a tone of finality and courage.    
  
Hunk smiled. “You’re right Lance.”   
  
Lance readjusted himself to resume eating, and the two fell into comfortable silence.    
  
Shortly after Keith arrived.   
  
“Hey Lance, hey Hunk,” Keith began, half yawning. “What’s are you guys—is that cheesecake?” Keith was suddenly alert.    
  
Lance shielded the cake away from Keith almost instinctively, “Yes and it’s mine.” As if to prove his point, Lance shoveled another forkful into his mouth unceremoniously with an unspoken challenge.   
  
Keith stared incredulously. “You’ve basically eaten the whole thing already! Give me the rest.”   
  
“Never!” Lance hissed, scowling.    
  
Keith crossed his arms. “You’re seriously not going to let me have any?” he asked dryly.    
  
Lance thought for a moment, then finally conceded, “Fine. But you only get a little.” He held out a piece of cheesecake with his fork. Keith seemed satisfied enough at the verdict.    
  
Hunk laughed. Yes this was his team. He trusted them. Their camaraderie was unrivaled albeit a bit dysfunctional.    
  
Instead of taking the fork from Lance, Keith leaned forward and grabbed Lance’s hand, guiding the fork into his mouth. He closed his eyes, savoring the taste and releasing a noise of appreciation.    
  
Uhhhhhhmmm. Interesting. No, no, not interesting. Freaking strange.    
  
Hunks eyes widened incredulously. That was new behavior for Lance and Keith. But he reflected that they had indeed been making great progress in their relationship together.    
  
When Keith released Lance’s hand and opened his eyes. He scoffed under his breath.    
  
“Lance you eat like a child,” he taunted.    
  
Lance gasped exaggeratedly, “No I don’t!”    
  
Keith looked amused. “Really, huh?” He leaned forward and braced one arm on the table, leaning towards Lance’s face. He brought his other hand to meet Lances chin, using the pad of his thumb to wipe away the cream that smeared Lance’s lips. Keith held up his hand in front of Lance’s face. “What’s all this then?”    
  
Lance grumbled incoherently as Keith smirked.    
  
Hunk was weirded out. But he went to his default mode and tried to rationalize what had just occurred. He concluded this was the type trust Lance and him talked about earlier. Kinda like when Allura chained their arms together and they all had to feed each other (although they didn’t actually do it). Yes, this was just like that.    
  
Keith mindlessly licked the cream off of his fingers.    
  
Yeah... this was just like that?   
  
  


3\. Allura   
“Girl’s night!” Lance declared in sudden proclamation.   
  
Allura had been sitting on a couch in the team convening lounge, shifting through the castle’s stored Altean files in hopes of recovering any important data... or any precious memories.    
  
“Pardon?” Allura responded in deadpan.   
  
“You, me, the mice” Lance pointed between them with his fingers in rhythm as he spoke, “manis, face masks, and hairdos.”  Lance punctuated the end of his sentence by landing his hands on his hips.    
  
“Lance, if this is one of your attempts to—“ Allura began warning.   
  
“It’s not, I promise!” He rebuttaled frantically. At her unimpressed look he added, “I pinky swear!”  for good measure. His previously confident posture became more meek.    
  
“You spend every moment attending to some kind of responsibility,” Lance began, “and we don’t get many days like these where there’s no imminent threat. I was thinking you could use the time off to relax,” Lance said hopefully.    
  
When Allura seemed to be not entirely convinced Lance added, “and I guess I wanted to relax a little bit too. I don’t think anyone else in this castle would be at all interested in doing face care with me. But I thought you might?”   
  
Allura smiled gently. How could she say no? No matter how terse she sometimes acted with Lance, she had a soft spot for him, as she did for all the paladins. But Lance was especially endearing, when he wasn’t purposely obnoxious.    
  
“Alright,” she agreed, “How do we go about starting this ‘girl’s night’ you speak of?”    
  
“Yes!” Lance whooped, striking some kind of ridiculous victory pose. He returned his attention back to the princess. “Okay, just shower, and put on some comfortable clothes, and meet me in my room later?”    
  
After he finished, he realized how suggestive his instructions were. Red crawled up his neck and he hastily blurted, “I mean, I swear I didn’t mean—“   
  
Allura stood up, cutting him off. “I know, Lance,” she said with a slight laugh. “I’ll see you soon,” she added over her shoulder as she left the room, presumably to shower.    
  
She took a long shower, letting the running heat wash the day off of her skin. She chuckled at the late revelation that Lance had been calling it a ‘girl’s night’ when he himself wasn’t a woman. His antics always amused her. He always managed to instill cheer in moments where she didn’t even realize she needed it.    
  
After stepping out of the shower and drying off, she slipped into a simple tee shirt and banded Altean pants. She made her way to Lance’s designated room.    
  
She knocked on the door, a politeness to indicate her arrival.As the door open she nearly stumbled into someone. After regaining her balance she came face to face with Keith, who had stood paused from their near collision. His hair was disheveled and Keith smiled sheepishly.    
  
“Princess,” he stated, nodding briefly in both greeting and goodbye. He stepped to the side in order to maneuver past around her.   
  
Allura looked back at him as he walked away. His body language gave nothing away as to his curious departure.   
  
She turned to enter the room. Lance was approaching her, readjusting the hem of his shirt and smoothing his pants.    
  
“Allura you’re here!” Lance noted, his voice slightly shrill.    
  
“That I am,” she replied. “What was Keith doing in—“ Allura paused. As Lance approached her, she noticed his face was flush and his fair too was out of place. And if Lance’s guilty face, which clearly screamed embarrassment, was anything to go by...    
  
“Were you two fighting?” Allura demanded, exasperated.    
  
Lance responded with a quizzical look. “Of course not. We were just...” Lance looked around sheepishly, “you know...” 

Lance’s unfinished sentence dragged into a pregnant silence. 

  
“Are you seriously going to make me say it?” Lance whined desperately.    
  
“Whatever, at least you kept your argument outside of Voltron affairs. Just make sure you guys resolve whatever tension just occurred,” Allura decided. She realized Keith and Lance would always butt heads, and there was nothing she could do about it. In the end, she knew the two were closer teammates than they let on.    
  
Lance sighed in relief, then brightened. He ran and got a large blanket which he settled on the floor. Plopping down and patting the blanket inquiring Allura to do the same. She sat across from him.   
  
“Okay, so what first?” Allura asked. Lance beamed.   
  
Quickly, Allura lost track of time, enjoying spending the moment with Lance. They applied face masks and in the meanwhile Lance attended to her fingers, excitedly educating her on cuticle care and ideal nail shapes. Once they finished, they went to the bathroom to rinse off the mask.   
  
Allura rubbed the substance off of her face with water, then scrambling with her hands for a towel to dry off. She grabbed something. The leathery texture informed her that that wasn’t a towel, and so as she continued to search around she accidentally knocked whatever she had touched earlier off of the counter.    
  
After finding the towel, she dried her face and inspected herself in the mirror. She couldn’t see any immediate change, but bringing her fingers up to touch her cheek, she could feel how much smoother her skin felt. No wonder Lance liked to do this. She was about to leave when she went to pick up the item that had fell beforehand.    
  
Huh. These were Keith’s gloves, right?    
  
She grabbed the other half of the pair that rested still on the counter.    
  
“Hey Lance,” she called out as she re-entered the room. Lance was contently inspecting his nails from his comfortable position lying on his stomach on the floor.   
  
“Yeah?” He replied, not looking up.   
  
“Are these yours?” She asked, dangling the gloves above Lance’s head.    
  
There was a split moment of confusion before realization dawned on Lance’s face.    
  
“Oh,” he stood up, grabbing the gloves as Allura handed them to him. He smiled softly as he fiddled with them between his fingers. He looked up, “Nah, of course they’re not mine! Only Keith would wear such a heinous accessory, you know that princess.” In contrast to the insult, Lance’s voice was mirthful and fond.    
  
“I’ll return them to him later, I’m surprised he hasn’t already come to take them back. It’s ridiculous how often he wears those,” he tossed the gloves onto his bed.    
  
Before she could internally question the gloves too deeply, a sharp stinging sensation bit at her eye.   
  
“Ouch!” She winced, shutting her eyes tightly and bring one hand to rub the eye in pain.    
  
Lance came quickly to her in concern, “Allura, you alright?”   
  
“I’m fine,” she dismissed, still struggling to blink open her eyes, “I think I just may have gotten something in my eye when I was washing my face.”   
  
“Don’t rub at it,” Lance pulled her hands away from her face, “that will only make things worse.”   
  
He took her face into her hands and tilted her chin upwards. “Look up,” he instructed, “I’ll tell you if I see anything, and if not I’ll guide you to the sink so you can rinse it out.”   
  
Allura’s eye was red in agitation, and twitched in pain whenever she accidentally began to blink. The perpetrator rested on the waterline, teetering close to the whites of her eye: an eyelash.    
  
“Ah-hah,” Lance said when he noticed it, “An eyelash, give me one sec, it’s not actually in your eye yet so I can just nudge it out. Just try not to blink.”    
  
Gently, he rubbed beneath her eye, dislodging the eyelash. He held her face between his hands still, adjusting her head so that he could peer into her eyes, assessing for anything else possibly lingering.   
  
Allura blinked away the wetness from her eyes. It still stung, but it was a residual pain.    
  
“I’m fine, Lance, thank you” she assured, she brought her hands up to his, gently tugging, “I’m fine Lance, so you can let go now.”   
  
Right as Lance was about to, the door slid open.    
  
“Hey, sorry Lance, I think I left my gloves in—“ Keith began, but upon seeing them holding each other seemingly intimately, faces mere inches from one another, he faltered in his speech.    
  
Lance released her face like it was a hot stone, throwing his hands in the air like a gesture proving he was unarmed.   
  
“It’s not what it looks like!” He blurted out immediately.    
  
Keith’s face was impassive, but both Allura and Lance could easily detect the underlying anger and clenched jaw.    
  
Keith turned away, walking out of the room he had barely walked into. The door slid shut. Lance groaned loudly, dropping his head in resignation.    
  
“He is such a drama queen,” Lance grumbled.    
  
Allura was left with questions. First, why did Keith have passcode access to Lance’s room? Two, why did Keith leave so suddenly, and so angrily? And three, what was Lance acting all miserable about?    
  
None of the information she had seemed to add up.    
  
“Okay well, I guess I’ll give him time to cool off,” Lance continued, “for now, will you let me braid your hair?”    
  
Allura agreed. As she sat there, allowing Lance to arrange her hair, she couldn’t help but to reflect: that was odd.    
  
  


4\. Shiro   
Shiro was drawing. The act was alien in a way it had never been before. But then again, he hadn’t had a highly powered galran tech prosthetic before. The arm moved perfectly in response to his actions as if it were a direct extension of himself. But it wasn’t. He couldn’t feel his grip on the pencil, couldn’t feel the minute grate of lead pressed against paper, couldn’t feel the image flowing from his hand, he only saw an image being formed.    
  
His chest clenched around a deep seated hollow of grief. His nonexistent hand throbbed quietly in a phantom pain alongside his heartbeat.    
  
He couldn’t explain it, didn’t want to try to explain destitute he felt to anyone else. He knew what they’d say. They’d remind him that his limb was as close to restored as possible. That he could still do all the things he could beforehand. That no matter what, he was still Shiro and he still had his own mind. There was nothing to mourn over. Though of course they’d say it with good, soothing intentions, Shiro didn’t want to hear it.     
  
He sighed. His hand retained all the functionality, but it didn’t change the truth that it wasn’t him. The matter of the fact was, he lost a limb. He lost part of his body, the only thing in the world that was entirely his. The human body was the only individual mean to express oneself into and to fully engage in projects with the world. And to him, that was a loss that could never be remedied in full.    
  
Keith came into the room silently, but Shiro felt his presence enter. It was hard not to. With the raw frustration flowing off of him in waves, his presence was nearly tangible. He made his way over and dropped in a seat across from Shiro, his body tense, cross armed and glaring down at the table.   
  
“What’s got you so worked up?” Shiro asked.   
  
Keith looked up to meet Shiro’s eyes. Immediately his body posture relaxed, though now sagging. He sighed. What was once outward anger inverted to self deprecation.    
  
“It’s dumb,” Keith muttered, “I’m dumb.”   
  
“Yeah well humor me,” Shiro encouraged. It wasn’t often that Keith came to talk about his feelings willingly.    
  
Keith glanced around unsurely.    
  
“It’s just Lance,” he admitted, his voice a mixture of frustration, resignation, and regret. His eyebrows were furrowed deeply and a frown tugged at his lips.    
  
Shiro wasn’t too surprised at Keith’s answer. Every since he had first seen the two interact, he realized that Lance had the uncanny talent to rile up Keith. “What did he do this time?” Shiro asked further.    
  
Keith unfolded his arms to rest his forearms against the table. His fingers fiddled with one of Shiro’s pencils. “No...” he began, “it wasn’t Lance.”   
  
Now this, Shiro was a bit more surprised.    
  
“It’s me,” Keith gritted out. “Ugh!” He exclaimed, slamming the pencil into the table. It splintered in half. His head made a loud thud as he dropped it against the table. “I just get so jealous sometimes,” he confessed weakly.   
  
Ah yes, Shiro thought. The rivalry. While Shiro had always thought it to be more sportsmanship and friendly mutual challenge, he guessed maybe it was a bit more personal.    
  
“He didn’t even do anything,” Keith groaned, “I wish I couldn’t be level headed but somehow I just get so wrapped up in the moment.”   
  
Keith groaned again, “I hate that part of me. I’m always jeopardizing what I’ve finally just acquired because I act before I think.”   
  
Shiro considered Keith’s words thoughtfully.    
  
“You know...” Shiro began, and Keith’s body rustled slightly in response to his voice, “I hate my arm.”    
  
Keith shot up. “What? Shiro no, you can’t—what?”    
  
Shiro laughed internally. Keith was always so quick to defend him, and always so terrible with words.    
  
“It’s true,” Shiro continued, “I hate it. It feels like a shackle. I often wonder if I’d feel liberated without it.”    
  
“But...” Keith said, thinking hardly, his mind grasping for the right words, “Why? It works perfectly doesn’t it?”   
  
“It does. It’s capabilities exceed way beyond what my original hand could do,” a wry smile made its way to Shiro’s expression, “but it’s a part of me that I wish wasn’t.”    
  
“But you’re still you, Shiro,” Keith insisted, “it doesn’t have to define you.”    
  
“Exactly,” Shiro nodded in satisfaction.   
  
Keith was nonplussed, “uh...?”    
  
“It’s a part of me, but it doesn’t define me,” he repeated in agreement to himself, “like your headstrongness, your instincts, your passion. It’s a part of you. It doesn’t have to define you.”   
  
Shiro stopped mid thought, confliction flashed across his face.    
  
“Or actually...” he reconsidered, “maybe it does. Maybe this arm, for as long as I don’t choose to remove it, so long as I wield it, it defines me. I may hate it, but ultimately, I choose to hone it. When I fight, I forget that it isn’t mine, I utilize it, it lets me be successful in battle, and protect the things I care about.   
  
“For you, you may not be given a choice, whether or not you’re brash. There’s no way for you to just expel it from your personality. But there’s still nothing wrong with it. It can be a burden, it can get in your way, and it can feel like you’re better off without it, like you’d be happier without it.    
  
“But in the end Keith, you have the power to direct it, to learn to manifest it. Just as I have learned that, no matter how much I may resent it, this arm can support me. For you Keith, I have seen first hand how you’ve used impulses wisely in the last. Sometimes, your head strongness is exactly what we need when no one else can offer it. And your competitiveness can be used to always strive to be more. It doesn’t have to be something ugly.”   
  
Though he felt confident while he spoke, Shiro suddenly felt more unsure as he waited for Keith to respond. Did what he say make any sense?    
  
“Okay sorry, Keith, that was a terrible analogy—“ Shiro began.    
  
“No,” Keith interrupted, “No, it wasn’t. I think I get it, sort of.”

Keith hesitated, brows furrowed deeply before he continued on, “Some things, we may not choose to be inflicted with, but our burdens can be our strengths. We just have to work on them.”    
  
Wow. So much for Keith always being terrible with words. Shiro smiled.   
  
Keith looked thoughtful for a moment, “So I guess in this scenario, I guess I chose to lash out my jealousy, instead of coming to terms with it and just recognizing how much I care for someone.”    
  
Shiro had been nodding along Keith’s words up until that last part.    
  
“Wha—care for someone?” The words left his mouth as confused as they had been processed in his mind.    
  
“Lance would never cheat on me,” Keith smiled, nodding to himself in affirmation, “I guess I just never want to lose him.”   
  
“Thanks, Shiro,” Keith said, standing up and exiting, pausing only a brief moment to squeeze Shiro’s shoulder in appreciation as he passed.    
  
Shiro sat blankly for a moment.    
  
_ Care for someone...  _ okay so care about gaining Lance’s mutual respect and caring about having his skills recognized.    
  
_ Cheat on me... _ okay so like cheating in whatever rivalry contest they were having.    
  
_ Never want to lose him... _ okay never want to lose TO him, lose TO him. Keith probably just misspoke or maybe it was Shiro who misheard.    
  
Either way, the conversation had taken a slightly strange turn, but as long as it resolved itself, Shiro saw no need to be concerned.


	2. Clarity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> \+ 1 Coran/Lance

They say all is fair in love and war, but as Coran gazed upon Keith’s body slumped over by the feet of the healing chamber, he felt that neither the former nor the latter sounded to be remotely correct. It was unfair, unfair and ugly, but it was their reality—a reality the two young lovers assumed in spite of it all. He admired the courage in their passion, and mourned the endurance in their strength. They shouldn't have to endure the extent to which they did. Coran marveled at the fact that they were so young, merely pushing 20 earth years, nonetheless shouldering the same burden he himself carried well past the thousands. In another reality, in some non war infested galaxy out there, he hoped Keith and Lance were able to live out their romance peacefully.

Their love, surely, was painful, everyday at risk, but tragic—never. Coran knew at the end of the day, Keith and Lance loved one another (it was hard not to with all the heart eyes they gave one another), and they would live to see the triumphs of Voltron’s efforts. A happily ever after was never too far removed.

Keith stirred as Coran approached him, though not quite breaking slumber. When he reached the sleeping figure, he simply draped a blanket over the exhausted paladin.

Coran shifted his gaze up to face Lance. Glass separated them, but looked intently at Lance’s shut eyes, Coran silently prayed and urged for his swift recovery. A team wasn’t a team without their sharpshooter.

Coran left the room as silently as he entered, returning to the communal break room where the rest of the team were gathered. He plopped onto the edge of one of the couches with a sigh, closing his eyes and tipping his head to rest back.

“No change?” Allura inquired gently, though already knowing the answer.

Coran shook his head sullenly.

“And Keith?” Shiro added softly.

“Still won’t leave Lance’s side,” Coran informed, voice sad but he added with somber amusement, “I’m amazed we were able to convince him to leave his side at all, even if it was for a short while.”

“Well it had been two days and he hadn’t showered and basically hadn’t eaten at all,” Pidge mumbled. “Also Shiro basically manhandled him into compliance.”

“But now it’s been four days total,” Allura noted, “What should we do?” 

“I guess nothing for now,” Hunk answered, “Hopefully Lance will wake up before it becomes necessary for us to force Keith to eat and shower again.”

“Surely he will,” Allura stated, firm in conviction.

Everyone nodded wordlessly in agreement.

“Man, I’m surprised how bad Keith is taking this though,” Pidge brought up, “I mean, we were all distraught, but at this point, its basically guaranteed Lance will make a full recovery right?”

Coran nodded in affirmation. “He’ll be spick and span in just no time,” he declared. Coran began fiddling with his gloves, and after a moment’s pause he added, “But I understand why it would still be especially hard on Keith.”

The others looked to Coran in mild confusion, who continued to inspect his gloves, unaware of their inquiring stares.

At no one’s reply Coran clarified, “I mean, as lovers and all.”

Water sprayed everywhere onto the table between the voltron members, as Pidge began to cough. She had been mid gulp when Coran made the statement.

Everyone recoiled, but rather than address Pidge’s accident, everyone stared at Coran in slow disbelief.

“I’m sorry,” Allura spoke up, “the pair of what??”

Coran looked around befuddled, “the… lovers?” He was met with even more incredulous stares, “Have I said something wrong?”

“Have you said something wrong?!” Pidge exclaimed, “You just insinuated that the the two most incompatible people on this ship are romantically involved! How is that not wrong??”

“Oh no,” Hunk began to mumble, “No. no. no. no. no.” His remarks crescendoed into a loud groan. “I knew it,” he concluded, “I knew it but I didn’t.”

“That…” Allura began, thought deeply etched onto her face, “would actually make a lot of sense now that I think about it…”

Pidge continued to splutter. Voices began to overlap as everyone scrambled for clarity.

“Calm down, everyone,” Shiro said, regaining his composure after the initial shock. “I think the most reasonable thing to do is to wait until Lance recovers and ask them about it directly. I’m sure there’s been some kind of confusion.”

“Ah! Perfect!” Coran exclaimed excitedly, just as Shiro had finished talking, “The castle just notified that the healing chamber has finished its cycle. Lance should be awake!”

….

Lance has a select few favorite places of all time. One of course, was his home back on earth: he loved being surrounded by family and being engulfed in all their liveliness, for better or for worse. There were also the beaches in Cuba: he loved basking in the sun and relishing in the the freedom imbued in the ocean. A relatively recent addition to this list was being settled in his Lion: he loved the exhilaration of flying and the deepness of their souls connecting. And lastly, as corny as it sounded, something that had made its way up the ranks alarmingly fast, was being secured in Keith’s arms: he loved Keith, plain and simple.

Somehow, he found himself there again. Disoriented, he clung onto Keith.

His eyes struggled to open against the brightness of his surroundings.

“Where…” Lance began.

_“We’ve just received a distress alert that there’s been a sighting of galra fleets heading towards Bezatulled, which we can only assumes means they intend to reoccupy. We must hurry before they breach the planet’s atmosphere! We don’t want to fight anywhere near the surface. Their infrastructure is still delicate and we do not want to inflict any casualties or collateral damage.”_

“Bezatulled?” Lance added, his voice still deep with exhaustion but frantic.

Bezatulled was once a small planet that was overrun by the galra and used as a communications base before Voltron had liberated them. Galran forces had been heavily imposing on its habitants and natural resources. Bezatulled’s lush, vegetation filled lands had been depleted by transmissions equipment scaling the wide expanses of the planet’s surface.

Lance remembers the battle, the retreating forces. But more pressingly, Lance remembered a Galran ship, wing broken, hurtling towards the surface, too close to the surface, a breath away from demolishing a village. He remembers racing towards it, straining to go faster, exerting himself to reach the object before it reached the ground and before it was too late.

Then nothing.

“Are they—”

Keith pulled Lance tight into his chest, “They’re fine,” he assured, voice hoarse, “You saved them.”

Lance exhaled in relief, leaning his forehead against Keith’s shoulder, letting Keith support his weight the same way Keith supported him in all aspects of his life.

Something wet dripped onto his shoulder.

“Keith,” Lance said, newfound concern lacing his voice. “Keith, are you crying?”

Lance cradled his lover’s face between his hands, bringing them level to his own. Keith covered Lance’s hands with his own tightly, bringing down one hand to press a soft kiss onto.

“Dumbass,” he scowled. Then Keith rolled his eyes, laughing slightly despite it all, “As if you wouldn’t be crying if it were me in that chamber.” He was jesting, but Lance knew just looking in his eyes, all the things Keith wanted to tell him. _I missed you. I was scared. Don’t ever do that to me again._

Lance pretended to think. “Hmmmm…” He moved his hands to drape over Keith’s shoulders, connecting behind his neck. “You’re right. Only I would be crying wayyyyy harder than you right now. In fact, I’m mad that you’re not a bawling mess. I mean, it’s like, do you even love me at all?”

“Lance,” Keith growled. He gripped tightly at Lance’s waist. He knew Lance way playing, but he had a knack for joking around when totally inappropriate. Now was one of those times. He couldn’t help but feel frustrated as Lance seemingly dismissed his own near death as well as the genuinity of Keith’s grieving. “If you’re seriously questioning—”

“Then show me,” Lance whispered, cutting him off. His forehead rested against Keith’s, his lips a breath away. “Show me right now.”

Keith pulled Lance in without a hesitation, and Lance held on tightly. Their lips met with fervor, short kisses in deep succession, each lingering emotions, building and building.

“I love you,” Keith chanted between short mingled breaths as he kissed Lance.

He kissed him again.

“I love you,” There was a wetness on his cheek and he wasn’t sure if the tears were Keith’s or his own. At that moment he only knew the lips that pressed urgently against his own. Lance was drowning.

And again.

“I love you,” the desperation between their lips never dwindled, each seeming to reaffirming that Lance was truly there, that it was truly his lips responding against his own.

He paused. Heavy breaths filled the silence between them. Lance opened the eyes he had closed somewhere between when he had gotten lost in Keith and Keith alone.

“Lance,” Keith pleaded, his gaze piercing, “I need you.”

At once, Lance’s heart swelled and shattered.

His hand moved to grip the hair falling around Keith’s neck, pulling him forcibly to meet his lips once more. Keith tilted his head to kiss him deeper. The depth was like falling, falling with no control, rushing towards something indescribable—but not being afraid to hit the ground. Lance parted his mouth and somewhere faintly at the back of his head he heard the door slide open and….

Pidge screamed.

“OH MY GOD MY EYES WHAT THE F—”

“I KNEW IT!” Hunk screamed, “I KNEW IT BUT I REALLY DIDN’T WANT TO!”

“SO YOU TWO ARE DATING!” Allura screeched, pointing to them accusatory.

“I’d just like to say I knew all along!” Coran chirped.

“Wait… “ Lance and Keith exchanged a look, they still held one another closely. “So… you guys didn’t already know?” he added quizzically.

Pidge, Allura, and Hunk blubbered some more, throwing remarks and demanding answers. Coran looked on paternally.

Shiro smiled in exasperation, “Good to have you back, Lance.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!! And for the kind comments!!!! I hope you enjoyed this chapter as well:)


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